Extra Hour in Bed My ARSE!

*rant rant rant*

Extra hour in bed *mumble*

Better for kids walking to school in the morning *rubbish – they just get run over in the dark afternoons when they’re tired instead!*

What is with this resetting of clocks malarky?!

And when is someone going to get the idea through to the under 5s?!! Putting the clocks back just means I get woken at 5am instead of 6am on a bliddy Sunday morning!

Hmmm need to transcribe this to grrrblogr

That is all.

Contemplative Sunday

Having been in an aggitated & pensive mood for a while due to recent events and my impending 40th birthday, the death of Boyzone star Stephen Gately at the young age of 33 has made me even more so.

I’ve always disliked Boyzone with a passion, but the death of anyone at a young age (particularly, younger than yourself!) is always a reminder of our own fragile mortality.

Live life, enjoy what you have, however little it may seem, and do what you enjoy. Be who you want to be.

Maybe it’s time to start taking my own advice……

Having been in an agitated & pensive mood for a while due to recent events and my impending 40th birthday, the death of Boyzone star Stephen Gately at the young age of 33 has made me even more so.

I’ve always disliked Boyzone with a passion, but the death of anyone at a young age (particularly, younger than yourself!) is always a reminder of our own fragile mortality.

Live life, enjoy what you have, however little it may seem, and do what you enjoy. Be who you want to be. And don’t write dreary blog posts at this hour on a Sunday morning. Especially pre-coffee.

Maybe it’s time to start taking my own advice……

Busy Head

Oh look. I did it again. I haven’t posted anything for months!

Well, here I haven’t. There have been other things afoot so this has been neglected somewhat. Been working on some other blogs (covertly shhhhh) and doing some writing and wonky thinking and stuff.

I have this problem with an over busy head – there are so many things I want to do I usually end up doing none of them very well!

I thought about sharing some of my short stories here but haven’t yet because:

1. I honestly don’t think they’re very good,
2. I don’t want to look stupid(er),
3. They’re mine and I don’t care if people think they’re good or stupid…. ooh wait. Did I just contradict myself already?!

Well, maybe I will share. Maybe I won’t. Maybe you don’t care either!

Oh what the heck, go on then. Don’t get over-excited

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.

Why I will never again neglect my right to vote…..

I’m not a believer in compulsory voting.

However, personally I feel that neglecting to vote is an insult to the struggle and suffering of the many who have fought for universal suffrage over the years. They did, of course, also further our right to choose NOT to vote and not voting as a conscious decision is just as important for some.

In last year’s local election, I neglected to vote. I was busy / tired / tied up etc. Or lazy / complacent / ignorant if you prefer!

When I collected the kidlets from primary school, the secondary school on the same campus was serving as a polling station. I’d been somewhere in the car and was a bit early, so sat in the car park waiting. As I sat there, an elderly lady came out of the part of the building where the polls were being conducted. I saw her, then carried on messing with my mobile phone: tweeting or somesuch nonesense! Five minutes later, I looked up and this lady had advanced no further than 15 metres or so towards me, her mobility was so much of an effort. (*NB. All distances are estimated and I’m rubbish at estimating distance! Just take it as read that she was very, very slow!) I went to her and asked if she was okay or would she like any help? She was trying to the exit the car park: 30 metres up a steep slope across the busy entrance. She said she was all right but it would be nice if I would lend her an arm. It took us 15 minutes to walk that 30 metres. I was beginning to think I was going to be late collecting my kidlets. Her next pitstop was the supermarket 200 metres away! She wouldn’t let me help her any further and insisted on slowly, independently making her way off to do her shopping.

Whilst walking with this lovely lady, we chatted. She was proud to have used her vote. She would have done anything to make sure it wasn’t wasted. She felt it was the single most important thing she had done for months.

So, in future, in respect for this anonymous stranger & the thousands of other people, both reknowned & unknown, who have struggled for my right to vote in democratic elections, I will never neglect to use my vote again.

Normal Service Will Be Resumed Shortly….

Currently moving my wordpress.com blog over to self hosting so things may be missing, broken, generally rubbish (yes, I know it’s always rubbish!)

Should be done soon, bear with me! Or if you prefer, bare with me – I know what you lot are like!

An afternoon out…

As today was Friday of the half term holiday, the kidlets were getting bored and the weather was fine and unseasonably warm, so we bunged them a camera each and set off to visit Birmingham Nature Centre

We armed ourselves with dodgy digital cameras/mobiles, and Marty gave us a triangle theme for our snappy afternoon, resulting in:

In other news….

Well there’s plenty of stuffies occurring right now!

A lovely twitter friend of mine has a couple of exciting projects on the go I’d like to draw attention to:

• Birmingham Flash Mob:  which I am unable to partake in, so will try and nag as many others as possible to join in!
• 4amProject: A super-exciting venture which expects us all to drink lots of alcohol and stay up all night get up in the middle of the night and take photos of what we’re doing and where we are etc.  I love this sort of stuff, great idea Karen, I hope you get lots of groovy submissions! Mine will probably of be DaMooseBiscuit curled up with a cat and a Springer Spaniel… he’s all talk about the staying up all night thang!

 Also a poor minkeh was stolen from a  local sanctuary (I still blame @_romi, despite the fact she’s in Canada), I saw some rather haunting photos of a napalm test site, and I found an office I was hoping was for rent!

And then I had a few drinks ….. ! ;D Oh and here’s a giggle!

(Belated) Happy Birthday, Enso

♥

The birth of our son, Enso, seems in some ways such a long, long time ago! He’s recently turned two and is a pain in the arse very bouncy little boy. But, with his birthday and the snowy weather being pretty much as it was then, it brings back all the crazy memories of his birth. It was a majorly stressful and pretty scary time, but looking at him now……….. he was so worth it!

Impatience

I am very patient, except for in specific circumstances.

I can sit in a queue of traffic, patiently allowing other drivers to join or switch lanes when others are banging their head on the steering wheel or honking their horn. What’s the hurry, we’re not going anywhere and there’s nothing we can do about it. (Okay well, honestly, I do freak out about this on the odd occassion but only if I have to be somewhere really, really important, like the pub a hospital appointment or someone’s ill, or somesuch.)

I can stand in line for hours, if neccessary, while others are huffing, puffing and shouting and swearing at anyone who looks like they might be vaguely connected with whoever is running the place. Like, say, a cleaner.

I’ve mastered the art of supermarket shopping without having a nervous breakdown, calmly allowing all those shoppers who are clearly much busier than I am and need to get their shopping done as quickly as possible, albeit at the expense of some old lady’s ankles, to push in front of me with their weapons of mass destrustion shopping trolleys.

There’s just one thing I can’t stand. It churns me up inside! I hate knowing that some kind of surprise is going to occur but not yet and I have to wait. I am SO impatient. I hate waiting for Christmas presents. I generally try and force torture persuade hubster to give me my Christmas present as soon as he buys it, or at least tell me what it is. If ever you’re planning me a surprise party (I’m forty next year, by the way, so yep, would be nice, eh?) you’d better make sure you give me no hint or inclination because I will just beat hound you until I have full details so that I may prepare.

One of my twitter friends has been tweeting a countdown this week, and I am finding it very hard not to nag, jump up and down or throw a tantrum in order to find out what it is. Whatever she’s up to, it’s probably not going to drastically impact upon my daily life but it’s been eating at me all week! What is she up to? Why don’t I know about it??!! 

Yeah. Control freak!? Me?!

7 Things (You Absolutely Don't Need to Know) About Me

The lovely Jaki Booth (@parboo) tagged me in that 7 Things whatnot that’s dashing around the blogosphere. Thanks (I think!) ;D

The question then arises, what to tell you without being too dull and without getting too personal! So here you go.

1. I live in Birmingham, but was born and raised in the Pennine Hills. You think this is snow…..?! ;D

2. I fell in love with & married a man in a wheelchair and hate it when people tell me how brave I must be for doing so. *rolls eyes* (I am quite a hero though, aren’t I!? ha! Kidding!) We were married in New York, in a friend’s living room, by a scary judge. Hubster thought he was going to send him to the electric chair but ultimately the sentence was much worse for him than that!

3. I am a Registered General nurse.

4. My brother was in The Full Monty. No, he didn’t take his clothes off (thankfully!), he was in the brass band marching outside the factory in the opening scenes.

5. I’m writing a novel. It’s rubbish!

6. I have an unhealthy addiction to licorice toffees and I adore raw carrots but loathe them cooked. Bleurgh.

7. I’ve played brass instruments since the age of 10 but don’t really play much any more: Just a tootle on my purple (Yes, purple! Woot!) flugel horn when I feel like it! My party trick is playing requests on a Smarties tube so I was gutted when they made them into flimsy, hexagonal poopage.

After trying to find bloggers who haven’t already done their 7 things, I pass the challenge to:

Karen Strunks
Romina Oliverio
Julian Kimmings
Michael Grimes
Ian Hughes
Julia Gilbert
Emma Jones

If you have already done it, and I missed it… oops! Sorry!